


It's My Party and.....

by FragMinded



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-13 06:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21489838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FragMinded/pseuds/FragMinded
Summary: Secret phone calls to Bobby. Sneaking around. Whispers and hushed voices. Sam is acting suspicious and Dean is fed up. Season 3, several weeks before Mystery Spot.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Last Minute Idea

The sun had tucked itself beyond the horizon and everything in eye-shot was coated in shadows. The pale pool of yellow coming from the headlights illuminated only the road.

Dean drove the Impala headlong into the darkness, gaining speed the further from town they got. He hadn’t known there was a nuclear reactor in that damned conservation area when he agreed to the case. He suspected Sam did because his brother had all sorts of weird little tidbits up in that mop-shaped cranium of his. Why his brother had failed to mention it was beyond him.

Dean shivered, trying to run his free hand over his arms in an attempt to rid himself of any nuclear…shit…that might have clung to him whilst he was obliviously in its vicinity.

“You’re being dramatic.” Piped Sam, fondly amused with his brother’s antics.

“Yeah well, you coulda told me we were going hunting in frigg’n Godzilla land…” Dean shot back, annoyed with his brother’s common sense.

“Godzilla land? Dude, for starters, that’s Japan. Not the middle of Missouri.” Sam reasoned. “And secondly, I didn’t know there was a plant there. Saw the obit about the hikers in the area with hearts missing, figured it was a werewolf, signed us up to go kill it.”

“And get us turned into mutants while we’re at it!” His eyes playfully frantic, he glared over at his brother who had settled into a laugh.

“You can’t get infected just by being in a 30 mile radius of the thing! They wouldn’t allow hikers, campers, hunters…kids, Dean, if that were true.”

“You don’t know that! Maybe they’re using the hikers as guinea pigs, Sam, huh? You ever think of that?” The fact that his brother was making sense didn’t stop Dean from continuing the argument. If anything, it encouraged him.

“Yeah, ok, Dean. You’re right.” Sam laughed. “You’re probably going to grow another head” He tilted his head to the side with a nonchalant look. “….or lose one.” Sam smirked, turning to face out his window, done with his brother’s paranoid game.

Dean started to respond before the weight of what his brother said hit him. Eyes wide, he glanced down to his lap and then over at his brother. As if it would prevent the loss of his most valuable extremity, he laid his free hand over the top of his groin.

“That’s not funny.”

“It is a little bit funny, yeah.”

Dean let his play at distracting his brother come to an end as he focused on the road ahead. Although he did feel unnerved by the proximity of the power plant, he really just wanted to get at Sam. His brother, however, didn’t bite the way he’d hoped. Usually meant Sam had other things on his mind.

Before the werewolf, he had told Sam that he didn’t want to die; that he didn’t want to go to Hell. He could only assume that whatever distracted his brother, had to do with that.

“We should go visit Bobby.” Sam offered. “See how he’s doing after the whole dream dive ordeal.”

“Bit out of the blue.” Dean spoke cautiously. Not that he minded. That case with the African Dream Root was trippy, for all involved. He’d learned a few things he didn’t know about the old drunk and seen things about himself he wished he could forget.

“Not really. I mean, I don’t know what all you saw, but you said Bobby had it pretty hard. I just figured we’d go check on him. It’s not that far of a drive.” Sam responded casually.

“I told you what I saw. Nothing.” Dean side glanced his brother, who was scoffing through a side-swaying head.

“Yeah, I heard you.” Sam spoke with some finality. It was obvious Sam didn’t trust what his brother had told him.

“Alright. Bobby’s it is. But, not tonight. I’m exhausted. And in desperate need of a shower.” Dean shivered again, involuntarily.

“Fair enough. There’s a small town about twenty-seven miles up. We can see if they have a cheap place to crash.” Sam nodded and stretched, quite visibly tired himself.

The rest of the drive was in silence.

* * *

They had checked in and deposited all their necessary gear into the room before heading out to try and find somewhere to eat. Or, Dean had. Sam found he didn’t have much of an appetite. He’d been waiting for months for Dean to admit that he didn’t want to die. He finally had. Sam was elated.

But he still had no idea how he was going to keep his brother from his trip downstairs. He needed a few minutes to himself. So when Dean said he was going to go grab some grub, Sam had politely declined to go with him. Dean had shrugged and left the room without a second thought.

The wallpaper in the room was a faded burgundy and was spotted with various sizes of white and black circles. The beds were adorned with black comforters about as thin as paper and pillows that might have once been white. He hated these flea-bag motels but what else were they going to do?

Some previous tenant had left a tree-shaped air freshener attached to the bathroom door. Sam scoffed as he unwrapped the string from the door handle and tossed the spent scent in the nearby trash can.

It reminded him of their last Christmas together. A knot twisted in his gut like a knife. Literally their _last_ Christmas together. Dean would be dead next year. At the mercy of all manner of Hellspawn.

_Not if I can help it_, Sam seethed. He knew he would do whatever it took and now he had Dean’s permission to do so.

But that didn’t stop the nagging _What Ifs_. What if he couldn’t? What if he lost his brother the same way he had lost Sam? It still ate at him that this was, essentially, his fault.

Shaking his head from the useless sentiments, Sam looked down at his watch. It was getting late. They’d be getting up early to finish the drive to Bobby’s. Or they would if he could help it. He needed their surrogate father’s advice right now.

Sam scrunched up his face as he returned his attention to his watch. The date. January 22.

The young Winchester lifted his hands to his hips and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes scanning over the ground as if his thoughts were there for him to read. Nodding to himself, he broke the distance to the window and carefully pulled back the curtains. The Impala was still gone. He had a minute. If he hurried…

Sam lifted his cell phone from his pocket, hit a quick dial number and put the phone to his ear.

“Come on, come on, come one…” He whispered, his excitement and impatience intertwining.

A click on the other end of the phone and then a gruff _Yeah_?

“Bobby! It’s Sam.” Sam was grinning and it flowed into his voice. “Hey, listen, I’ve got an idea…”

* * *

Dean parked the Impala in front of their room but didn’t immediately vacate it. He’d brought food back for his stubborn-ass little brother and he was trying to gather everything in his hands. One trip cause he wasn’t a punk. The young hunter laughed at himself and in the process, about dropped Sam’s drink.

“Shit!” He positioned himself, quickly, to steady the beverage and pulled everything tight against his chest to prevent another close-call. Once outside the car, he used his hip to close the door. He’d have to come back out to lock it. Damn it.

Dean continued his balancing act all the way up to the door and started to kick on it to alert his brother but stopped when he heard Sammy talking.

“Yeah, I know. But Bobby, what if this is our last chance…?” Sam was pleading, not desperately but apparently the elder gentleman was not immediately agreeing with his brother.

There was a pause. Dean leaned closer to the door. He could hear his brother’s sigh of relief followed by:

“Thanks, Bobby. And no, I don’t think he should know.” Sam responded.

Don’t think he should know, huh? Dean narrowed his eyes.

“Because he’ll try to stop us, that’s why!” Sam was laughing through his arguing. “Alright. Thanks, again, Bobby. Yeah. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dean waited a minute more before kicking on the door. He didn’t want Sam to know he’d heard. Whatever Sam was planning, he wasn’t going to let on that he knew until he’d found out a little bit more.

The door shuddered as he kicked at it.

“Yeah?” Sam called.

“Delivery!” Dean jested through his irritation.

The door opened a crack so his brother could verify it was him and then he swung it all the way open. As Dean entered, he noticed Sam eyeing the mass amount of food he’d brought back.

“You weren’t hungry, were you?” His little brother’s eyes near glistened. Something had him in a good mood. If Dean weren’t so suspicious of him now, he’d be damned happy. Sam had been morose since he’d found out about the deal, save for the reprieve at Christmas.

“Yeah, shut up, bitch. Or I’ll eat what I brought you.” Dean smiled at Sam who shook his head in retort.

“Jerk. What’d you get?”

“Absolutely nothing healthy, so you’ll hate it.” Dean set everything down and tossed a bag towards Sam. “But you need to eat. You’re a beanstalk.”

“A beanstalk with clear arteries.” Sam jested, but he set the bag down and dug through it.

“O’erra’ded.” Dean spoke through a full mouth, having tore open his burger.

Sam, having taken a large bite of his own burger, near lost his mouthful to a laugh. Covering his mouth to keep the contents inside, he smiled through his eyes at Dean.

Dean swallowed and hesitated taking another bite.

“Who were you on the phone with?” Dean didn’t miss the split-second flicker of doubt that crossed his brother’s face. But Sammy was good at what he did and he recovered quickly.

“Oh, uh…Bobby. I called to let him know we were coming.” Sam smiled again but avoided his brother’s eyes, appearing busy with his food. Dean nodded and took another bite.

He’d ask Bobby when they got there tomorrow. Sammy might be able to hold out on him, but Bobby was a little less inclined to lie.

Just a little.


	2. Morning Melancholia

The other side of the call went silent and there was a heaviness in the air that usually followed a conversation with one of the Winchester boys. Bobby set his phone down on his desk and turned to survey his living room, hands set idly on his hips.

“Not tell Dean….boy’s got a world o’ hurt comin’ his way, he thinks _that_ will fly…” He muttered to himself. Plan wasn’t bad but the old hunter did not care one bit for keeping it secret. Childish, is what it was. Then again, he had to remind himself, Sam was still a kid. Hell, both of the boys were.

He’d have to start setting up blankets here in his living room for Sam and Dean when they got here. Sounded like they might stay a night or two. Neither took the rooms upstairs, for whatever reason. Preferred to crash on his couch and floor like a bunch of teenage girls doin’ hair and gossiping about boys.

That thought made him chuckle. They were idjits but they were _his_ idjits.

His kitchen door swung open and slammed shut just as quick. Bobby took a few steps to see around the divide between rooms. He was met with Ellen. She’d been staying off and on until she got her feet back up under her after the Roadhouse burned down. Jo wasn’t with her this time. Must still be out huntin’.

“You got right good timin’, there, Ellen.” He huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. She looked up at him, but said nothing as she began putting away groceries she’d picked up for him. God bless her. He took her silence as approval for him to continue.

“Just got a call from Sam.” Bobby lifted his hat from his head, ran a hand over his hair before replacing the hat again.

“Oh, yeah? He still looking to break Dean outta his deal?” Ellen kept on her task, not slowing to look at Bobby.

“Am I still drunk and pretty?” Bobby scoffed. “Them two boys would kill themselves twice over if they thought it would save the other…and I think Dean knows it.” Kid was as hypocritical as they came but you couldn’t accuse him of not loving his little brother. “But that’s not why Sam called.”

Ellen finished with the items meant for the fridge and stood, finally granting the old drunk her full attention. She faced him with a raised brow and a half-cocked smile.

“You gonna keep leavin’ me in suspense, Bobby Singer?”

He shook his head, giving her a scrupulous look. “No, what’s gonna leave you in suspense is what this crazy-ass boy has planned for his brother.”

Her gaze switched to one that spoke volumes of _Well?_

Bobby paused for a moment before relaying Sam’s wishes to Ellen. When he was done, she was silent for just a second. As the idea registered, her laugh echoed throughout both rooms.

“Kid’s got balls, that’s for sure.” Her eyes settled on Bobby’s and her grin widened. “Let’s do it."

* * *

The following morning, Sam had rolled out of bed at roughly 0430 and scuffled his way to the bathroom, knocking his shoulder into the doorframe in the process. He was exhausted but the quicker he got showered and ready, the quicker he could wake his brother and light a fire under his ass.

Stripping down, Sam threw his dirty clothes in a pile and pulled a towel off the rack. This bathroom was tiny compared to other motels they’d stayed at and uncomfortably so for his larger frame; he found it difficult to maneuver around the toilet and shelves without knocking things down or bruising his elbows. It felt like an obstacle course just to get into the shower and get it started. If Dean didn’t wake up from all that noise then Sam was going to get to have fun waking his brother up. His brother was capable of sleeping like the dead.

Size of the bathroom aside, the water pressure felt amazing and the heat felt even better. If he was being honest with himself, he’d been too excited to shower last night after talking to Bobby. Then when Dean came back and heard him on the phone, man, he thought he was done for. But his brother had dropped it.

As Sam was about to open the curtain after turning off the water, he heard the door to the bathroom creak open on its dried out hinges. Fingers wrapped tightly in the fabric dripping with water, he slowly started to pull it back. He could see from his height the door ajar; he moved his eyes down the crack until –

“You got cats on crack rampaging through here, or what…?”

Dean’s face. Sam startled and yanked the curtain back to cover himself up. He did not, however, miss the large, albeit half-asleep, grin set upon his brother’s mug as he disappeared from view.

“No reason to be modest, Sammy! I’ve seen it all!” He jested. Sam picked up a small shampoo bottle and chucked it over the shower bar and heard it thud followed by a surprised and pissed off “Ow! Son of a-“

Sam laughed. “Get the hell outta here, Dean, I’ll be done in a minute.” The door closed but he could hear his brother pissing and moaning on the other side of it. Asshole.

The youngest Winchester got out and dried off, opening the door to find his brother sitting at the edge of his bed; elbows on knees and head held, barely, upright by his hands. Sam crossed into his view to get to his bag for clothes. Dean did not move.

“It wouldn’t kill you to sleep in just…once.” Dean’s muffled voice came from the inside of his hands. “Like a normal person…”

“Yeah, well, I’m _not_ normal, Dean.” Sam smiled and dug through his duffle for underwear, an undershirt, pants, a button-up flannel and his brush. “And neither are you.”

“I can at least _sleep_ like a normal person, Sam.” He shifted his head so he could look at his up-and-at-‘em little brother. “Or would if my brother wasn’t an alien…”

Sammy shook his head. “Go shower. We leave in 20.” A mischievous thought tugged at his conscious and he gave it voice, liking the play. “No coffee or breakfast if you’re not out in the Impala by then.”

Dean sat straight up and looked over at his brother. Sam met his gaze with an unyielding glare of his own.

“Empty threat, Sammy. I’m driving.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam held up the keys he had swiped from his brother’s side of the bed. “Not if I beat you to the car…”

Dean’s eyes grew wide as he spun around to look at the bedside table where he’d left Baby’s keys. They were indeed gone. Whipping his head back around to glare at his brother, Dean’s face contorted through several different emotions before landing on the one Sammy knew would be trouble for him later; feigned obedience.

“Dude, whatever….Imma go shower…” Dean shrugged and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Sammy smiled and quickly got dressed, shoving his own dirty clothes into a smaller bag to separate them from the clean ones and making sure he had everything he needed. He was ready to walk out the door before his brother even turned the shower off.

Feeling every bit as mischievous as he’d previously acted, Sammy scribbled a note that read “Slowpoke”, childish as it may be, and left it on top of Dean’s duffle. With that, he was gone out of the motel room and out into Impala, turning her on to allow it to heat up while waiting for Dean to finish his primping routine.

* * *

Dean was livid. Not only had Sam snaked his keys, but he’d decided to declare war.

“Slowpoke?” His head cocked back as he glanced over at the driver he wished he could cold cock. “Did you return to your body ten years younger? I mean….really?”

Sam obviously did not appreciate the reference to him having been dead and returned, which Dean was counting on, and the smile he’d previously worn started to fade.

“It was a joke, Dean. Forgive me for being in a good mood….”

“Why is that again?” The eldest raised both brows, setting his lips to a hard line.

“Why is what?”

“The good mood. Where did this come from all of a sudden?”

“I have to have a reason to be in a good mood now, Dean?” Sam seethed at his brother, the joviality broken. At least for the moment.

“For you? Poster Boy for Melancholia? Yeah, you do.” Dean shot back.

“You know what, Dean, screw you. I’m allowed to be happy. You finally admitted you don’t want to go to hell. My time with you is limited if I can’t find a way to save you…so if I choose to not waste it moping, why is that a bad thing?” Sam’s voice bordered on a yell.

Dean’s mouth moved but no words came out. What could he say to that? Sammy had a point. Maybe he was being too hard on the kid. Maybe what he heard last night was nothing.

But when was that ever the case with Sam? Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes with his left hand.

“It’s not a bad thing, Sam…” He felt bad a little but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his brother was up to something that would undo all he’d worked for…something that would get himself killed. “It’s just not like you.”

“Well, you’re right, I need to be a bit more like you; take things in stride. I don’t want to spend your last few months bringing you down. So yeah, I’m trying to do better. I’m not giving up…no way in hell…but I don’t have to be the “Poster Boy for Melancholia” the whole time either.”

Dean nodded through his brother’s words. It was clear to him that he wasn’t going to get anything out of him regarding that phone call. Perhaps it was better to just leave it alone for now, until he had more proof. Or until he could talk to Bobby. Side-glancing his little brother, the hunter sighed heavily.

“Alright. But if you start randomly breaking out into song and an orchestra starts from nowhere, I’m putting you down.” He forced a smile, hoping his attempt at diffusing the situation he’d started to blow up would work.

Sam grinned his goofy little grin. “Whatever, dude. You love Disney movies.”

Dean’s mouth fumbled with the words to defend himself. Nodding his head to the side, he pulled his lips down and shrugged. “M-maybe I was talking about other types of musical movies. Like ‘Rent’ or, or…’Cats.’ Disney does not the hold the patent on random singing and dancing!”

“True, but how many times did you watch The Lion King when we were kids? Or Aladdin?” Sam’s grin widened.

“Hey, Lion King is classic…and Jasmine was hooooot.” Dean retorted.

“She was a teenager, Dean. A kid.” The taller brother cocked up an eyebrow.

“And I was a kid when I thought that; fair game, little brother.” Dean flexed his brows once with a nod to the side.

Sam merely smiled, waving his head from side to side. The relaxed optimism he’d had before Dean spoiled it seemed to have returned.

Dean may be suspicious but, right now, he was grateful.

With Bobby’s place on the horizon, the brothers bantered back and forth over which Disney movies were better and which of the princesses would have been better in bed.


End file.
